Why am I fat? 2/25/05
What a loaded question. I come from a fat family. My mother was/is MO, my father was, both his sisters are, his grandmother was, half of my mother’s aunts were MO… That’s 115 linear years of being fat… Neither one of my brothers is fat, but I think their serious cocaine and methamphetamine additions had something to do with that.
I love food. I love to cook, to feed people, to nurture them through food. I love to create new recipes, modify old ones. I love to eat good food. And I’ve always been able to eat large quantities of food, I’ve almost always had a difficulty feeling full. Being satiated is not part of my understanding. Heck, I can’t even spell the word close enough to Word to spell it for me!
Abuse, mental illness, bla bla bla, my mother was a lunatic, and not in a good way. Drugs, booze, pain. All part of the mix. Same as so many others.
I was always built solidly. Drop me into a pool and I would sink. In high school I always thought I was gi-normous, the scales said I was fat, my family was always telling me how fat I was. But I look at pictures from my year-book, and I was the same size as all the other girls. Bigger than some, smaller than others.
When I was small, I was forever getting serious cases of poison oak to the point where my skin looked like it was melting. I would need heavy doses of steroids and I’m sure that caused me to pack on the muscles. When I was 19 I was working out 5 hours a day and I loved every minute of it. My fighting weight was 190, and I thought I was terribly fat. I was a size 11 and I could bench press close to 300 pounds. My warm up was 100 push up (not modified), 100 sit-ups, 100 jumping jacks, and 50 judo push-ups. Then I could get down to my real work out.
That lasted a couple of years until I developed asthma. It hit me hard and fast. I was spending a week in the ICU every month for close to a year. Really hard to get any exercise when you get out of breath trying to catch your breath. And then when you add the steroids on top of not being able to move… recipe for disaster.
I developed carpal tunnel so bad I had to have four surgeries on my hands. For several years I only had partial use of one hand. (Turns out, I can’t do simple arithmetic left handed…) The drug they put me on gave me back nearly full use of both my hands, but I gained 50 pounds in 3 months. Not fun, like so many others here, I decided being fat was the lesser of two evils.
I’m concerned that I won’t do well with the band because of the steroids, and the weight I always gain and can never seem lose. I worry that this too will be just another gimmick that I’ve tried. But I know now that the scales lie. They are dammed liars. I don’t have a goal weight, I only have a goal size.
“The best fried pickles?” ERk!
What a loaded question. I come from a fat family. My mother was/is MO, my father was, both his sisters are, his grandmother was, half of my mother’s aunts were MO… That’s 115 linear years of being fat… Neither one of my brothers is fat, but I think their serious cocaine and methamphetamine additions had something to do with that.
I love food. I love to cook, to feed people, to nurture them through food. I love to create new recipes, modify old ones. I love to eat good food. And I’ve always been able to eat large quantities of food, I’ve almost always had a difficulty feeling full. Being satiated is not part of my understanding. Heck, I can’t even spell the word close enough to Word to spell it for me!
Abuse, mental illness, bla bla bla, my mother was a lunatic, and not in a good way. Drugs, booze, pain. All part of the mix. Same as so many others.
I was always built solidly. Drop me into a pool and I would sink. In high school I always thought I was gi-normous, the scales said I was fat, my family was always telling me how fat I was. But I look at pictures from my year-book, and I was the same size as all the other girls. Bigger than some, smaller than others.
When I was small, I was forever getting serious cases of poison oak to the point where my skin looked like it was melting. I would need heavy doses of steroids and I’m sure that caused me to pack on the muscles. When I was 19 I was working out 5 hours a day and I loved every minute of it. My fighting weight was 190, and I thought I was terribly fat. I was a size 11 and I could bench press close to 300 pounds. My warm up was 100 push up (not modified), 100 sit-ups, 100 jumping jacks, and 50 judo push-ups. Then I could get down to my real work out.
That lasted a couple of years until I developed asthma. It hit me hard and fast. I was spending a week in the ICU every month for close to a year. Really hard to get any exercise when you get out of breath trying to catch your breath. And then when you add the steroids on top of not being able to move… recipe for disaster.
I developed carpal tunnel so bad I had to have four surgeries on my hands. For several years I only had partial use of one hand. (Turns out, I can’t do simple arithmetic left handed…) The drug they put me on gave me back nearly full use of both my hands, but I gained 50 pounds in 3 months. Not fun, like so many others here, I decided being fat was the lesser of two evils.
I’m concerned that I won’t do well with the band because of the steroids, and the weight I always gain and can never seem lose. I worry that this too will be just another gimmick that I’ve tried. But I know now that the scales lie. They are dammed liars. I don’t have a goal weight, I only have a goal size.
“The best fried pickles?” ERk!
posted by Vinesqueen at
12:36 AM
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